


Eat, Pray, Envy

by mitochondrials



Series: Bee-I-en-gee-O 2k16 [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Community: cap_ironman, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 00:27:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7553092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitochondrials/pseuds/mitochondrials
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Avengers enjoy their post-battle Shawarma the only way they know how; mild bickering. It also just happens Steve might be a tad bit jealous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eat, Pray, Envy

**Author's Note:**

> Bingo Square O-1: _Canon: MCU Phase 1_
> 
> The title is based off a book title this time, Eat, Pray, Love. Because I can.

“Hummus,” Bruce says, suddenly, forcing Steve to focus away from his half empty basket of Shawarma. He’s speaking to Tony.

“Yes?” Tony says.

“Who dips their falafel in hummus?” Bruce asks.

Twenty minutes ago they all silently entered the Shawarma Palace. Tony was leading the way while latched to Natasha’s shoulder, ordering almost everything off the menu, followed only by what seemed like hundreds of overly excited civilians behind them.

Steve couldn’t remember being thanked by so many people before. Course it was also hard to recall the heartfelt sight of people carrying food bags to share. There were people handing out water and offering rides, assisting in clean up. And then there was Thor and Clint handing out high fives to kids and adults alike, circling around Bruce like a protective barrier to the onslaught.

It seemed in their shared unity to defeat Loki, they bonded, at least a little bit.

Tony took charge organizing everyone, too, falling easily into what now Steve considered a stage persona. He was smiling and joking, but almost hesitant, while Natasha faded into the background easily, keeping her attention solely on Tony. Steve certainly hadn’t realized the two might have been close in some way prior to this.

Natasha clung to Tony’s the moment Steve helped free him of his armor, carrying Tony down the street, denying Steve’s further aid with a glare.

She helped Tony kneel down a few times to hug several children, delighted to the Iron Man before eventually summoning Thor to carry their food to the table so the staff wouldn’t have too. They were busy, after all. Steve felt a pang of … something--jealously?-- watching her settle Tony down next to Bruce and brushing her hand over Tony’s chest, paying special attention to his arc reactor.

Oh, sure, Tony protested and tried whacking her hand away, leaving Clint to chuckle because Natasha was going to have her way, one or the other. Yet she looped round the table, seating herself between him and Clint.

And why not? He thought. He didn’t have the slightest clue about how the reactor functioned. All he knew was how warm the chest plate felt beneath his gloved fingers like it’d been laying in the sun for hours.

He tried not to stare once they lapsed into mutual silence. But it was difficult not to fall into dark thoughts; of Peggy, the Commandos, the ice. _Bucky_.

“Who, thank you very much, hordes said falafel when there’s plenty of meat filled Shawarma to go around?” Tony says, reaching for one of the round balls in Bruce’s basket, dipping into a type of thick paste smeared across Tony’s own.

The argument is a welcome distraction. And perhaps, an excuse to look Tony over for the dozenth time.

“You didn't even know what is was till ten minutes ago,” Bruce says. He’s smiling softly, angling himself towards Tony.

Tony shakes his head. “Five.”

“Mm, sorry. Five minutes ago. You’ll need to excuse my tired, frazzled brain a minute. Was busy fighting aliens and saving some guy in a metal suit.” Bruce says.

Tony snorts, cracking a smile of his own. “Brucie-bear, you shame me.”

“I certainly doubt it,” Bruce says.

“Wait, what’s so bad about dipping falafel in hummus?” Clint asks.

Tony shrugs. “Yes, indeedly? If not to make me feel bad.” He huffs dramatically.

“I didn’t realize that was possible,” Natasha says. She reaches over Clint to take a falafel ball for herself, tearing at it delicately.

“It’s not.” Tony insists.

“I heard you pronounce tahini, _taheyney_. How you managed that accent I’ll never know.” Bruce says.

Steve felt oddly left out. Again. It’s apparent they’re teasing Tony, and it’s strangely enduring. Tony isn’t blushing or stammering through it, like he would be, instead, it’s more like Tony’s joining in, making fun of himself with them. “Tahini?” He asks.

“ _Taheyney_ is more a sauce, and hummus is a spread,” Tony says.

“ _Taheenee_ ,” Bruce continues to correct, “actually, is a paste made of roasted sesame seeds. Tahini sauce is tahini mixed with garlic and lemon, and sometimes water.”

“A disgusting condiment,” Tony says, gesturing to the plastic sauce dish also in Bruce’s basket.

“Hey, wait. This stuff's pretty fantastic. Don’t know what you’re talking about there, Stark.” Clint says.

“I don’t know,” Steve says. “What’s so bad about hummus?”

“He’s dipping chickpeas into chickpeas.” Bruce answers.

“Not all hummus is made outta chickpeas,” Tony says.

“This is,” Bruce says.

“It’s chickpeas of various texture and seasoning, then,” Tony says, rolling another ball of falafel into his hummus.

“Okay, but, what you got against sesame seeds?” Clint asks.

“Uh, I don’t know. Everything?” Tony says.

“May I try?” Steve asks, promptly talking over whatever Clint was going to say next, pointing at Tony. “The hummus.”

“Yeah, sure Cap,” Tony says, tearing a piece of falafel in half, smearing it in the hummus, and reaching across the table. “Be my guest.”

Steve meets him halfway, bravely removing one of his gloves to swipe some of the hummus straight off and licking it. “Not bad.”

Tony blinks, “Uh.”

“Thanks, Tony.” Steve smiles, taking the piece before sitting back down. He tries to ignore Natasha staring at him.

Well, good.

Tony simply brushes it off, happily sitting back down with a grunt. "See?" He motions at Bruce.  
“Maybe,” Bruce says, glancing at Steve. But he looks pleased.

“I, for one, think all of it is delicious,” Thor says, ultimately joining the conversation after sitting there so long quietly woofing down his second sandwich.

“And that’s why we love you,” Tony says, patting Thor’s shoulder.

“Aye?” Thor asks.

“Perhaps,” Steve cuts off the conversation again, “We should already be thinking about dinner. The tower is thrashed, and I’m not so sure Fury is feeling very up to babysitting us till we’re ready to finish dealing with Loki.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Clint agrees, swinging his leg off Natasha chair. “How about pizza. Sorta been missing it the past few days.”

Steve nods. “You and Natasha, then.” He says, tactfully trying reach to Tony’s side before Natasha can beat him to it. “I’ve got Tony.”

“Look, seriously. I’m fine enough to walk on my own.” Tony insists.

But Steve just waits, outstretching his hand for Tony to take. And when Tony does, by god, Steve can’t help but resist pulling Tony close, his fingers itching to caress the reactor. “Don’t worry about it.” He says to Tony.

He dares to glance at Natasha. Her stare is still ever present and hard to read but she nods in agreement, either way.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!  
> This is one of those stories where I can tell my writing style has changed/evolved and I don't know how I feel about it. Plus it's currently u'beta'd, so all mistakes are def mine.


End file.
